Burning Bright
by Inez Ylon
Summary: Two nights, far apart, burn bright in my memory. Two nights for love. And that was all. Just two nights. RLSB SLASH
1. I and II

**A/N:** Set in chapter five of HP: Order of the Pheonix. So here we go again. This could be seen as a sequel to "In Place of Her" but I think it can be read alone. Lupin grabbed me by the throat and angsted pitifully at me. I'll post the second part later. Enjoy...SB/RL angst/fluff whatever. Partially inspired by "Ghost" by the Indigo Girls. Eventually RL/Tonks

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**Burning Bright**

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**I**

"He's not a child," Sirius replied impatiently to Molly, eyes bright. I knew he could never resist a fight, no matter how small. He had always enjoyed even verbal sparring, though he had never been good with words, by his own confession.

I think I was the only one in the room who realized exactly how deeply Molly's next words struck him.

"He's not an adult, either!" she retorted, the colour rising in her face. "He's not _James_, Sirius!"

Sirius flushed scarlet, then went dead white. I could clearly read him: rage, shock, hurt. He answered Molly after just a moment too long. "I am perfectly...perfectly clear who he is," Sirius managed, voice tight, almost quivering. He turned on his heel and left the room, back straight and tense.

He did not look back, even when I called his name. I abandoned my wine, and followed him, tossing an apologetic look to the others. I knew he was going away to sulk, probably, and usually I would have let him. But something about the hurt on his face at Molly's comment...it disturbed me.

I followed him up the stairs, like a wolf hunting the fox to its den. I knew he would be in his old room. I think he knew I was following him. When I reached the top of the stairs, the door to his childhood room was pulled almost to, but not latched. It stood faintly open, as if beckoning. I took a deep breath–merely because of all the stairs–and walked in, shutting the door behind me.

He was standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed over his chest, staring past me blindly.

"Sirius," I called.

His gaze jumped to me. I realized that perhaps he had _not_ been expecting me. I felt a little uneasy, now, and berated myself for my assumption of welcome and entry. But his lips twitched into a little smile. "Remus," he acknowledged.

I took a deep breath. "I don't think she meant to hurt you," I started, unable to think of any other way to begin. "She's just trying to protect Harry, you know."

He twitched, and his smile vanished. He looked away. "I...I know...but how...how could she say that? I know he's not James, I _know_ it, dammit! Does she think I could _not _know it every time I look at him? He's got Lily's eyes, no matter how much he does look like James, even if...even if..." he trailed off, breathing unevenly. Grief was stark on his face, and he shook his head, hiding his face behind the fall of his long, dark hair.

"I know," I murmured, stepping closer. "She didn't mean to hurt you."

I realized he had not heard me. "Lily's eyes, Lily's eyes," he muttered, almost singsong. "I know he's not James...Harry won't give up on me."

Those words struck straight through me, shocked me back a step and burned into my heart. "Sirius," I hissed. He looked up, startled, and I could read the grief on his face, and what lay underneath...hurt and betrayal, bitter and so many years old. I knew that sick look. "You loved him." The world shifted beneath me, and the matching hurt and bitterness swelled up against my own throat.

I read the truth in the way his blue grey eyes widened. Then he shut them, and shook his head, violently. "No...I don't...You know I can't love anyone," he snapped, the bitterness choking his voice. "You told me that, and it must be true. You're always right."

I realized how much that desperate, furious stab of teenage agony had really, really hurt him. All these years...I bit my lip and stepped back again. I never...I had meant to hurt, in my petty anger, but never...

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**II**

I solemnly swore never to sleep with Sirius Black sometime in our fifth year. Why? I knew it would mean nothing to him if I did. He came in night after night smelling like a different girl...and one night he came in smelling of two separate girls and one boy. I swore then and there I would never sleep with him. I swore I would never ask. I knew he would say yes if I asked, and that it would not mean anything to him. I wanted it to mean something.

Sirius was handsome, with good features, well-kept hair, and those striking grey-blue eyes. Even I knew he was a looker, and I did not pay much attention to those things. Besides his good looks, he could be very charming at times. On his good days everyone loved him. He had the few days where he would seek solitude, closed off from even his closest friends, but those came fewer and far between as the years went on. Girls flocked to him, attracted by his face and his casual flirting.

I think what attracted me to him was the way he latched onto everyone. I could see beneath that confident veneer...he was desperately looking for love and acceptancejust as I was. Every relationship he went through he was searching for what he had never had as a child. He did not really know how to love; girls left him just as quickly as they picked him up. But he tried so hard to give them what they wanted, in the hope they could give him what he needed. I knew what it felt like to crave acceptance... As a werewolf, I knew rejection very well. It was difficult for me to watch him claw so desperately after every shred of affection his lovers would give him...and fall apart every time they left him, spitting harsh words that would hurt him so deeply.

Of course, in the end, I was no better than they were.

By the end of our fifth year, I knew I had fallen hard for him. I could not get him out of my head. I wondered what it would be like to have him look at me the way he looked at his lover...that sincere smile with the hidden need beneath it. To have him leaning so casually against me, sharing body warmth as easily as he shared his secret laughter. I was constantly tempted to touch him...just touch him. To run my fingers through his hair, to rub the tension out of his shoulder, to just touch him as easily as he touched his lovers. I wanted that easy acceptance and familiarity.

And I swore I would never have it. Teenagers induce a lot of their own misery themselves, I have found.

I justified my promise to myself with so many reasons. I never really admitted to myself just _why_ I wanted him, just _what_ I wanted from him. At first it was because he only liked girls. Then it was because I was his friend. Later, that changed to because I was not handsome. I knew it. My monthly transformations were draining, and I scarred myself up very badly in those days. Even now I use a mild cosmetic charm to hide my scars. It is not because I am vain...rather, I dislike people staring at me. I have a really hideous scar across my face I got in my third year...I hooked my dew-claw in the corner of my eye, somehow, and laid my face open to the bone, from eye to jaw. It got infected, healed up, became infected again, and Madame Pomfrey had to cut open the scar-tissue so it could heal again. By the end of my fourth year it was a thick, seamed scar from the top of my cheekbone down to my jaw. It is faded now, but still prominent.

The last reason was because Sirius was sleeping with James. I found them out in our sixth year. I came up during lunch late in the year and found them, naked and very involved, Sirius's face flashing in and out of view behind his sun-lit hair, making those heart-breaking cries with every thrust. He sounded like he was sobbing. Red-tinged, slowly blueing bruises were mottled down his back and under James's fingers on his hips, and all up and down his arms. I think what shocked me most was the sheer wrongness of it all...James loved _Lily_, and here he was shagging Sirius into the mattress...his best friend... How clearly I can recall feel the sudden stab of betrayal, as Sirius's voice keened sharp and short, and they collapsed into a tangled heap of skin and limbs in the sunshine. Betrayal..._how could he do this to me?!_ But I knew he was not really betraying me...how could he when we had never had anything more than friendship? But the heart is not rational.

I scolded them both, told James to stop _using_ Sirius like that, tried to tell Sirius that he was being _used_, tried to tell Sirius to break it off. I know he did not listen to me. I could see it in his eyes. I watched him so much I could read him well. I could tell his mood and reaction even better than James could, James who spent so much time with his pseudo-lover and friend.

It was our final year that I fought with him. Fed up with dreams dashed and hope scattered, bitter and twisting love into hate, I had a shouting match with Sirius in front of the entire Gryffindor common room. I told him he was loose and easy, no better than a whore on the street, sleeping with anybody that asked. I screamed that he knew nothing about keeping relationships, that he did not know how to love anyone. I took such low blows I am still ashamed of myself. At the time, I was hurt and angry and ended the entire debacle by giving Sirius a black eye. We were less than friends after that. I felt I deserved it but felt that it was his fault, and hated and loved him more than ever.

The war began, we fell apart, and then he was gone.

I was left with regret and a love I had never before realized had consumed me so completely.

Until it was gone.


	2. II and IV and V

**A/N:** Part the second. Not a lot of people realized that this story had to parts. To correct this error, I have decided to post the second part today. Tada. Beware, Lupin's rather out-of-character here, he kinda sound like a teenage girl with a crush. (Gee, wonder why...with a teenage girl with a unrequited crush writing, I don't know HOW that could have happened...

Remus/Sirius, Remus/Tonks. Yay.

I don't own HP nor it characters. I'd like to own Sirius though...

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**Burning Bright**

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****III**

"Oh Sirius..."

I did not realize I had spoken until he looked up at me, hurt and shaking and closing himself off from me. I could see him clamming up. I felt that if he did I would lose him again. I stepped forward, reaching out to him.

"Oh Sirius...I didn't...I was angry. I didn't mean it." I let my hand drop. I knew he would not let me touch him. "I swear I didn't mean it. I was wrong. You do...you must have loved him. I'm so sorry, Sirius. I didn't...I never..." I stopped, and looked up at him. "You must have loved him," I repeated. "Otherwise you wouldn't have held onto him all this time."

Sirius cringed, put his back to me." And what does it matter?" he choked out. "He's gone. It doesn't matter any more." He shook his head. His shoulders quivered. "It doesn't matter any more.

I closed the distance, laid a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, snapped his head around to see me. There were tears on his face. I felt wretched. I had hurt him so badly...far more than I had ever meant to. I hung my head, and leaned down onto his shoulder. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm sorry, Sirius. I'm so sorry."

He shivered beneath my hand. Impulsively, I hugged him, keeping my face turned from his. He was still taller than I was, and my head fit almost perfectly on his shoulder. I tried not to think about that. After a moment, he hugged me back. I could feel his head bowed over me, felt the hot drop of a tear down my neck. We stood there in silence, two foolish men with so many regrets. I tried to hold still, to not let him see that I was crying, too. I was shaken. I had hurt him, actually _hurt_ him, and beside that my own self-pitying woe was disgusting.

He pulled back too soon. I could not look at him. I dropped my head, turned away from him. He knew, probably by that guilty gesture, that something was wrong, and his calloused hand caught my shoulder, pulling me back around. Reflex alone made me look up. I saw his surprise, and a shaft of despair sank through me when the look changed into _realization_ He knew. After hiding it for so long, he knew. I felt no delight in it. I was afraid of what he would think. I pulled away again, ashamed.

He caught me again, with both hands, pulled me closer. I kept my face down. "Let me go," I whispered.

One hand turned loose, but his fingers caught my chin, irresistibly turning my face up to his. I tried to hide it, tried to pull away, but he stared into my face and I felt that he read me like an open page. There was surprise still in his eyes, and something I could not read. I had never seen that expression on him.

"All this time..." He was putting the pieces together. I could see it. I was oddly ashamed. "All this time...you..."

"L-let me go." I tried to pull away, but I could not stop watching his face. I did not know the expressions that ran across those familiar features, and it frightened me. I had always been able to read him, always...

He smiled, shakily. "Damn," he muttered. "So stupid..."

He was rejecting me. I knew it. It gave me the strength to pull away. "I know," I muttered. "I'm sorry."

His warm hands caught me again, pulled me closer than ever. "No... Shit, I'm no good with words. That's not what I meant. Look at me, Moony." His voice was gently commanding, tinged with self-deprecation.

I obeyed. I knew that voice. I could read perfectly that little smile of apology he gave me. I knew him again, and he was familiar. I let him hold me, an arm around my shoulders, his hand on my arm. I met those grey-blue eyes and wondered if I would ever really have the strength to look away. I doubted it. I had spent too long loving and hating him, spent too much time making it a habit to study him. And I wondered if I dared hope...

"I think I should say sorry," he murmured, after a moment. "I laughed at you. And you were right. I...James didn't really love me. But you..."

"But I did." My gaze dropped to his lips. I was afraid of his reaction. "I'm sorry."

He growled, then, with exasperation. "Stop that. I'm apologizing, not you. You didn't mean it. You said so."

"But I..." He scowled, bared his teeth, and growled at me again. I stopped trying to talk.

He was silent a moment. "Dammit, I'm no good with words. You know that. I just... Argh, will you look at me? You're not...I'm not...argh." I had to laugh, then. It was so typically Sirius. I looked up at him, and he was smiling too. He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm a bastard. D'you think you can forgive me?"

"For what?" I asked. "I'm the one...I'm sorry."

"Hush. Not another word. You've already apologized." He leaned closer, and whispered. "I forgive you. I've got you back. I'm not alone. It's all forgotten." Some distant horror flicked over his face, then he shut his eyes and leaned down and...kissed me.

It was light, chaste, and it made me cry. I do not know why. He looked at me crying, swore violently, and kissed me again, pulling me closer. He was a good kisser. Before I knew it our mouths were open, and he was teasing and exploring and drawing me closer still. I think he was crying, too, because I could taste tears. I held onto him, afraid to let go. I had lost him, I had hurt him, but he was here and he was kissing me like he wanted to devour me. It occurred to me, vaguely, that this was why the Dementor's Kiss was such a terrible thing: to take something so winsomely intimate and twist it into a means of stealing life instead of sharing it...

Even after we had stopped kissing, he held me close, resting his cheek on the top of my head. I fit into the hollow of his shoulder perfectly, and I did not want to think about it. Instead I thought about him, one hand in his hair and the other flat against his heart. I hoped, oh I hoped that this would last...that I would never lose him again.

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**IV**

In the end, we only had two nights together. We were together, yes, during the entire time, but it was simple touch. Simple love. Brushing of hands, careless and casual touch. Kisses stolen in hidden places. Crossed gazes, feet bumping together under the table. He had such a way of looking at me, hot and intense, that I could not understand how the rest of them could not see that we were lovers. And I loved him. I loved it. It was what I had wanted, and I was so caught up in the half-forgotten dream I glossed over whatever disappointments there must have been. There must have been...though I do not remember them.

Two nights, far apart, burn bright in my memory. Two nights for love, two nights to learn the passion and intensity of sex. And that was all. Just two nights.

And I lost him.

Again.

I was left with regrets and a love that had consumed me so completely I did not know what to do without it.

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**V**

Nymphadora Tonks. His second cousin, and a full twelve years younger than I am. She says she loves me. I do not doubt it. It is the way she looks at me, the way she studies my every move. I remember that feeling. I know it. I lived half my life with it. And I know the agony, the uncertainty, the desperation all too well.

But still I hesitate.

It is too soon...the ache still too fresh.

She has his features, the set of his cheekbones, the long lean lines of his body. Her eyes are almost the same shade of grey-blue, when she lets them be. Every time I look at her I see him and it tears my heart in two again. I lost him...lost him twice and loved him so much I do not know what to do with myself anymore. She loves me, and I know it. But I do not want to...

I want to honor that love by loving her for _herself_, not for the dead she reminds me of.

Not because she looks like Sirius.

Because I know the pain of loving someone out of reach.

Sirius would want me to love her for herself. I know it.

I know it...

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_Finis_

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**A/N:** The end. For real. 


End file.
